Let's Rewrite Life Together With The Stars
by Queen of Lunacy
Summary: She's lonely and doesn't know where the sidewalk ends and the real world starts. He doesn't really know what the real world is. Maybe she needs him with his blinding blonde hair and hurt eyes. Maybe he needs her with her crazy curls and wistfulness. Maybe
1. Chapter 1

Hello stranger,

New story alert yo! But don't worry, I'm still working on my ABC story. This is just a random idea that popped into my head, and I decided to do something about it.

Let's see where this goes?

Let's rewrite life together with the stars

Life doesn't work this way (1)

This isn't how life is supposed to work, you think as he kisses you sloppily on the cheek. Sometimes you think you hate him but then you realize you can't because he's always been there (but always is such a general word, because he hasn't always been there. No one has.)

You should feel butterflies at this _exact_ moment because he's being so cute and so nice and so Ron, but instead you feel this blankness that you wish wasn't there because you're supposed to be happy **always**, not blank.

"What's wrong Mione?" He asks and his red hair makes you cringe because it's too bright and it's too attention catching and you're sure everybody is looking at you.

"Nothing." And your smile fights against all the muscles in your face that are trying to make you frown, but then your smile wins because it always does.

And he smiles a lopsided grin that kind of reminds you of a big slobbering dog that jumps on you as soon as you walk through the door. He was exactly that, and you wish he wasn't because you need someone who could talk to you, and as cute as big slobbering dogs were, they couldn't ever talk back.

*

"Ron" You say almost too calmly. Really you're wondering what the hell you;re doing, this is normal, this is life; you can't just leave it. But you still call his name too calmly and he hums to show he's listening and you think it's now or never.

"I think we need to take a break."

He certainly wasn't expecting that. But you leave before you can see the hurt on his face and hear the words that could stop you on the tip of his tongue.

*

_Dead end town? __**Check**__. Quiet coffee shop? __**Check**__. Lonely people? __**Check**__. All the time in the world? __**Check**__. Love? __**How could there be love when you were so damn lonely?**_

The coffee cup looks like it's bigger than you and for a moment you want to jump into the cup and drown yourself in the coffee you had put too much milk and sugar in.

You don't really have a preference of how many sugar cubes or how many spoons of milk, it really depended on the mood you are in. And too much milk and too much sugar didn't fit the way you are feeling right now- Curiously Morbid.

This isn't how life is supposed to work you think again as you watch a teenage boy with scared eyes and ink stained fingers scribble in a torn and tattered notebook. His clothes are ripped and you feel like buying him another cup of coffee but he looks perfectly content bleeding ink all over a crumbled piece of paper. Maybe paper is the only thing willing to listen, you think.

A strapping gentleman strides into the coffee shop and you're sure who it is as soon as you see the blinding blonde hair and confident walk. He doesn't walk- he swaggers you decide. And then when he buys a coffee- a cappuccino with cinnamon and 2 sugar cubes- and sits across the room from you and looks around in feigned interest when really he looks hurt you think. _This isn't how life is supposed to work._

But then again, how is life supposed to work? You look back into the depths of your coffee mug and wonder who will give you answers and a shoulder to cry on. Certainly no one in this cafe. But then again, life doesn't like to be predicted so she gives you surprises. And surprises are good you decided a long time ago when you were still naive and _happy_. Surprises are very good.

_

AND SCENE!

"I've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck than any boy you'll ever meet, sweetie you had me."

Whoever guesses the song gets cookies!

Not so sure of this thang right here. I apologize for the past/present mix ups, I want to write it mostly in present, but then I wrote it in past, so then I had to rewrite that, and I think I missed a few. I don't know if you can feel the hurt yet... (because truthfully I can't) so I hope this will get more intense later on yeah?

xx The Queen of Lunacy


	2. Chapter 2

Hello stranger,

My dad decided to turn off the internet because there's a storm... So without mindless facebook and msn, I've got time to write

hurrah!

Looking for home. I can't find it

"Hello?" He sounds tired, and you can almost see him pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and yawning. You bite your lip and regret hiking a mile outside the town to find a muggle pay phone and dialing his number. Only the stars knew why he owned a phone in the first place.

"Hello...?" You see him glaring into space and waiting a few more seconds before starting to put the phone down. "Okay, listen whoever you are I've had a long day and I need some sleep-"

"Harry." You see him widening his eyes in shock and gasping at the phone as if it had jumped out of his hand and started tap dancing. You know him too well.

"_Hermione_? Hermione? Where are you? We've been searching for you for ages! Everybody's worried sick about you!"

"I'm fine. And I'm safe."

"Well, where the hell are you?"

You don't answer him, even though the answer is on the tip of your tongue. _Honestly I have no bloody clue, but I like not knowing. _It makes it easier to say goodbye, you think.

"Hermione. Come back." It comes out more as a plea than a command.

"Come back where?" You sigh back because where _would_ you go back to? _Home_? You don't know where home is- and it certainly isn't with Ron or Harry. And why would you go back? You don't have a reason to _and neither does anybody else_.

"Come back to us. Come back home."

You sigh once again and you know that he's gritting his teeth and silently begging in his mind _pleasecomeback pleasecomeback_.

"I'm looking for home Harry, and I don't know where it is." You hang up and even though you aren't the one cradling the receiver to your ear, you can still hear the dial tone ringing in your ears and you breathe in deeply before screaming loudly.

When you're done with your screaming you don't feel any better because nobody heard your cry for help, only the stars, and everybody knows they keep your secrets with them until they burn out.

*

You're back in the coffee shop, slumped down in the same cozy chair. Why am I always going back to where I started? You think. Why why why why why why me?

The teenage boy is also in the coffee shop, once again scribbling in his notebook. Every so often, he looks up and glances around with his scared brown eyes. His pen will run out of ink, you think. And then who will he confess his heart to? Then who will try and take the fear out of his eyes and soothe him? No one would, because they're too caught up in their own problems and own fears to worry about someone else, you think. No one cares anymore.

"Honey, you want something else?" The coffee shop owner asks. She is a big bustling woman with a kind voice and ready smile. She makes you think of your grandmother who you would bake cookies with and laugh all day with. She grins at the teenage boy who gives her a look that makes you think of a deer caught in the headlights.

He's counting his money. You can tell by the way his fingers sneak into his empty pockets and then his mouth tugs down a little more and you wonder what it's like to have your frown win more than your smile; because your smile _always_ wins- even when you don't want it to. He shakes his head and rubs his stomach absentmindedly.

"Yes he will." You call out, and then you buy him what he wants (he mutters it shyly blushing the colour of Gryffindor) and a little extra because he needs it. When he's done he looks up and catches your eye and you think there are tears in his eyes but he gives you a small smile before going back to scribbling in his notebook.

It's only then that you notice that the strapping young gentlemen with the hair the colour of sunlight is sitting and watching you with dull eyes as if saying "Will you be that nice to me?"

You're looking for home, and sitting in this coffee shop with all these lost souls make you think that you've found it. And then you're glad that the only people who heard you think that were you and the stars. And they never tell.

*

The next morning you find a piece of paper torn from a dirty notebook slid under your door.

_Thank you. I'll pay you back someday. The money as well._

And that's the first genuine smile you've had in... _forever_.

_

AND SCENE!

"Everyone's a let down, it just depends on how far down they can go."

Like... no Dramione action... but I'm building it up aight? And I want some Hermione/Random teenage boy action because well, random teenage boy is pretty rad in my eyes. This is strictly a Dramione story- please, Hermione will NOT have a relationship with random teenage boy. Hmmm, I probably should name him.

Feedback?

xx Queenie


	3. Chapter 3

Hello stranger,

I started writing this at 1 am, but i fell asleep before i could finish. i still don't know how this chapter will turn out... so... once again... i am winging this...

The rain is trying to trick me (trois)

You're sitting in a book shop hunched over a worn and torn copy of a book you used to read before you found out you were a witch. For some reason, you're wearing a Gryffindor scarf. The wool feels scratchy around your throat, even though it never used to.

Maybe I've just changed, you think. Maybe we all have.

"What are you reading?" The voice is unfamiliar- but it fits in the dingy book shop. It's the teenage boy from the coffee shop.

"Peter Pan- it's this muggle book..." You don't expect him to know it, I mean, why should he? The _muggle_ youth barely know the real book, only the fancy coloured cartoon on the television.

"Peter Pan?" For once his eyes change from that constant scared look to something you could define as happiness. "I used to read that book a lot when I was _younger_." He says the word sadly, as if he misses it, as if he's already grown out of being called "young".

"Hey kid, you're still young." You say and then you hand him the book and spend the rest of the day watching him read the children's tale as if it is the only thing that could make him want to live.

*

You let him have the book because you like seeing the shine in his eyes and it looks better clutched in his ink stained fingers than it would in yours. You ruffle his hair because he looks like such a poet. You nod goodbye, and then the outside world swallows you up.

*

It's raining.

It's raining, and you're walking back to your makeshift home and you see that strapping gentleman again. It occurs to you that you should probably start calling him by his name, but _that strapping gentleman_ makes you feel like you're in some romance novel being read by a breathless teenager. It's raining, and you're standing there watching _that strapping gentleman_ with a soft smile on your face.

But it's very strange. He always struck you as the sort of person who walked in a solitary fashion with his head held high, but he wasn't walking, he was _spinning_ around. His arms flung out as if he was flying through the damp air and he's twirling with his eyes closed and a grin dancing on his lips.

He looks happy, you think. You should feel happy as well, watching him dance in the rain as if he isn't sad.

It's strange, you think. How he's as much of a Malfoy now, as he was when he used to tease and snarl at you. When you walk away, you can feel his gaze on you and maybe you should turn around and join him, or maybe you should just keep walking away.

When his hand grabs yours and forces you to spin around you feel time stop. The rain stops, the thunder stops, the wind stops. It's just you and your thoughts. And him.

And then suddenly it starts again and now _both_ of you are spinning in the rain.

*

The rain- teardrops of angels who weep for a lost cause. That's something that the boy in the bookshop would say, you think.

The rain, is falling around you in some complicated pattern that neither of you can decipher. It's trapping you in it's glistening spiderweb, making you spin closer and closer to each other.

*

You're not sure when he leaves, but suddenly it's just you dancing and when you stop you feel such a concentrated feeling of loneliness it makes you want to curl up into a ball and never face the real world again.

You want to give up your search for home, and just crawl back to Harry and Ron and whisper in a broken voice that you didn't find it.

The rain is trying to trick me, you think. It makes you think that after the rain, the sun will shine and everything will be alright. But the sun isn't going to shine. It will just keep raining, drowning you in it's melancholy song.

Why is this hurting you so much? _What is hurting you so much?_ The fact that he left, the fact that the moment you thought you shared together didn't exist anymore?

The rain is drowning you, you decide.

It suddenly strikes you as odd. You can't feel where the rain ends and your tears start.

_

AND SCENE!

"She was sooooo shy, till I drove her wild. I make them good girls go bad. I make them good girls go bad. You were hanging in the corner with your 5 best friends, you heard that I was trouble but you couldn't resist."

Damn I love that song!

My view of chappie- eh not that great, but maybe you think different...?

xx Queenie

P.S. "I MAKE THEM GOOD GIRLS GO BAD. I MAKE THEM GOOD GIRLS GO, GOOD GIRLS GO HEEEEY"


End file.
